Cloud Nine
by eskimoelena
Summary: When Damon Salvatore, successful businessman and millionaire, wanders into Elena Gilbert's bakery and looks to buy it, she is less than happy. After all, he represents everything she hates in modern society. Can he win her over and convince her that what he wants would be best for her and the bakery? Or are the two destined to clash heads forever?
1. Chapter 1

** Hi lovelies! I'm back, with another Delena Delight for you. The response to YQTLF continues to delight and amaze me and I'm so glad that people are still enjoying it.**

**This idea just came to me and I decided to run with it. I personally love baking and have always dreamed of owning a bakery, and they say you should write about what you love, so here we are.**

**It'll probably take me a while to get back on my fanfiction feet – I feel a bit like a wobbly baby giraffe just learning to stand, so be gentle. **

**Also – last thing, I promise – I've decided to change up Elena's body shape in this fanfic, mainly because I was a bit tired of hearing all about her 'slim, smooth, flat, NO FAT' stomach etc. There is other body shapes than that that are super sexy and attractive and I wanted to write about it. It struck me that it might be a mistake to say her size, because I don't people thinking that I believe that a size ten or twelve or whatever she is (US size ten/twelve by the way) is big or ugly or anything because I don't. I'm actually that size, and I think that I have a pretty fantastic look. It's just a lack of confidence on her part. But don't fret – Elena will be growing to ****_looooove_****herself as the chapters go on. **

**So here we go! Hope you like, and I'll see you at the bottom.**

**OOO**

"Joanne, can I get another batch of red velvet with cream cheese please?" I called into the kitchen, glancing impatiently at the empty glass case.

"Sure thing boss!"

"Can you do them quickly as well? Because we're completely out!" I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. It was part of Joanne's job as an intern baker to keep track of the stock so that she could get on baking something that we were running low on. So far, she hadn't done it once.

The little bell above the door chimed and I turned around quickly, pasting a smile on my face as I greeted the customer. "Welcome to Cloud 9 bakery!" I chirped. "Can I help you with anything?"

The young man barely glanced at me. Instead he began to walk around, looking intently at everything, from the wall décor to the cakes themselves. "No thank you darling. I actually wanted to speak to the owner of this place."

I narrowed my eyes at him. Speak to the owner? Nobody had ever wandered in and asked to speak to the owner. Plus, I didn't like the way he was _inspecting _the place.

"Well I'm terribly sorry, but in order to talk to the owner, you'll have to make an appointment. I'm the manager though, so I'd be perfectly happy to help you with any queries that you may have."

He looked at me properly now, for the first time since he had walked in and I was able to see what he actually looked like. He was pretty handsome actually – all pale skin and black hair, complete with a pretty fantastic jawline and cheekbones. It was his eyes though, that really drew me in. They were a bright, intense blue, lined with coal black eyelashes that were wasted on a boy – they were the kind of eyes that burned out at you from the front of a magazine cover, not the kind that you saw in real life. In fact, now that I thought about it, he looked kind of familiar.

I was shaken out of my thoughts when he spoke again.

"You're the manager?" He asked with an air of incredulity and I bristled.

"Yeah, I am." I said coolly, preparing to whip out a feminist speech about equal opportunities between men and women should it be necessary. "Is there a reason why that's a surprise?"

Instantly his face transformed and he laughed, holding his hands up like he was surrendering. "Easy tiger, I'm not saying that you shouldn't be. It's just unusual to see a manger being the one to sell the goods, that's all."

"Oh." I said, deflating slightly. "Right. Well I kind of do everything that needs doing around here, and our sales girl is sick today. So here I am."

"So you run the place?" He asked, sounding interesting and I nodded.

"Yeah, I do I guess. Ricki – she's the owner – doesn't really know anything about the shop, she just owns it and funds new purchases and all that. I oversee everything. Like the owner without the profit."

He nodded, and the way he was looking at me was so intense that I glanced away, tucking my hair behind my ear. "So can I help you with anything?"

"Well unfortunately no, I don't think so. It really is the owner I need to speak to."

I frowned. "Well I'll take a message for her if you'd like." I searched around for something to write on before eventually finding the order forms and a pen.

"That'd be wonderful, thank you." The polite things that he was saying didn't match up to his tone, which was amused, like the two of us were sharing a joke.

"Ok, so…will I get her to ring you?" I asked, scrawling a message summing up the situation.

"Perfect."

"Ok, great…and your number is?"

He rattled it off and I scribbled it down before glancing up at him sheepishly. "Perfect. And…actually, I'm sorry; I never got your name."

This seemed to particularly amuse him and he smirked slightly. "Damon Salvatore."

I looked up at him. "Why is that name familiar to me?" I asked, racking my brains for where on earth I had heard it before. He considered this for a moment, as though trying to figure out the proper way to answer this.

"You know what, this is going to sound incredibly pompous, but it'd probably be best if you just Google me."

I stared at him before bursting out laughing. "You're right, that _did _sound incredibly pompous. I'll omit that from the message, just to ensure that you actually get a call back."

I tore the sheet off of the pad and wrote 'Ricki' on the front in capitals. Just as I finished folding it up, I heard a wail from inside the kitchen.

"Shit." I glanced behind me then back to Damon, who looked amused. "Look, I should probably go and make sure that the kitchen's not on fire. I'll make sure she gets the message, ok?"

"Brilliant. And sorry, I never got your name."

"Oh, I'm Elena Gilbert." I told him, shaking his outstretched hand and he smiled.

"Nice to meet you Elena. And thank you for all of your help."

I shot him one last smile before pushing open the door into the kitchen, greeted by the smell of burning. I found Joanne staring miserably at a tray of black cupcakes at the back.  
She looked up at me sadly when she heard me approaching. "I accidentally set the oven to 450 Fahrenheit instead of 350." She said mournfully, her lower lip wobbling.

I tried to keep my voice level. "Ok Joanne, we've talked about this, remember? You have to triple check the ovens before you put the cakes in, in case something like this happens. Otherwise you'll waste time."

She flapped her hands about. "I know, I know, I know! I just completely screwed up, I'm sorry."

Sighing, I picked up the burned tray of cakes. "Look, just forget about it. It's fine. Just make another batch and while they're cooking, make the frosting, ok?"

"Right. Yes. Ok. I'm on it!" She began to run around the kitchen again and I turned away, rolling my eyes as I dumped the cakes – although granted, they were more like rocks - into the bin. We had taken Joanne in because she was Ricki's niece and since she wanted to get into the baking industry, Ricki had offered her an internship.

Ricki was not the one who had to deal with the equivalent of a puppy in her kitchen every day.

I headed back out into the main shop area and straightened up a few of the platters on the counter. I waited in case a customer appeared for a few minutes and when the shop remained empty, I ran into my office to grab a few folders of paperwork that needed filling out and began to work on those. For some strange reason, I wasn't able to get Damon Salvatore off of my mind.

OOO

The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully. We had our usual surge of customers around five, people coming in with sugar cravings on their way home from work but apart from that, it was pretty quiet. Mondays were the day that we got the least customers – I put it down to people starting diets at the start of the week. (Usually giving up by Tuesday, bless their hearts.)

The shop closed at six and once I had locked up and wiped all of the counters down, I left too, grabbing the note containing the message for Ricki so that I could call her on my way home.

As I drove back to my apartment in my little Mini, (old, battered and the love of my life) I dialled Ricki on my hands free. As I expected, it went to her voicemail.

"Hey Ricki, it's me. There was a Damon Salvatore in the bakery today, wanting to talk to you. He didn't say why but he wants you to call him when you get a chance. His number is…" I stopped at a red light and fumbled with the note for a moment before finally getting it open. "It's 815-669-111. Give him a call. Other than that, no news from the bakery. Joanne is…doing fine. Maybe a little bit more concentration would be good but other than that, she's…enthusiastic. So yeah. Let me know what Damon wanted, ok? Talk to you later."

Thankfully, the roads were pretty clear and I was home without too much delay.

"Caroline?" I called, opening the door to our apartment. "You home?"

"Kitchen!"

I dropped my bag onto the couch in the sitting room and ducked under the low doorframe into the kitchen, finding Caroline cooking something on the stove. The word kitchen implies that it might have been a reasonable size but in reality, there was just enough room for two people to stand relatively comfortably.

"Hey doll. Mac and cheese ok?"

"Mac and cheese is _always_ ok." I told her, peering over her shoulder at the sauce that she was making.

"Well good, cos that's all that's I had the money for."

"Oh, you bought this? I didn't know that The Mystic Mart did those mac and cheese boxes."

Instantly she looked shifty and glanced behind her. I looked over at the corner that she was looking in and frowned. "Is that…"

I grabbed the plastic bag and read the logo on it before whipping around, glaring at her. "Walmart? Come on, Caroline! You know we don't shop there!"

"Well it's more that _you're _the one who doesn't shop there." She said guiltily, turning around and wiping her hands on her jeans. "It's just…I love the Mystic Mart and obviously you know I want to support local shops as much as you do but sometimes it's just so much cheaper to get it from a chain store!"

I opened my mouth to protest but she held up a hand wearily. "And yes, I know that the money goes straight into the owner of a huge corporation's pocket, the very same person who's ruining America but when you have five bucks and it's your turn to cook dinner, you kinda get desperate. I promise that I will buy a week's worth of food in The Mystic Mart shop as soon as I get paid, ok?"

"Fine." I said coolly. "And your sauce is burning."

"What? Oh shit!" She spun around and mixed it furiously, cursing under her breath. "Only I would be able to screw up a damn _boxed _mac and cheese."

"I think it's karma." I mused aloud and she thumped me before mixing the gloopy sauce again.

"Actually, get me the cheese from the fridge, would you?"

I handed it to her and she smiled and I was, once again, stunned by how pretty she was. Caroline and I had been friends since senior year of high school. The two of us were polar opposites, with her being slim and small, with curly blonde hair and me being tall and curvy with brown hair. She had been the head cheerleader, peppy and popular and over the top, while I had been quieter, with my only real hobby being the baking that I did in my kitchen at home. The two of us had been assigned a group project in English together, and once we had got over the preconceived notions that we had had about each other, (Me – that she was a blonde bimbo. Her – that I was a sarcastic bitch who thought I was better than everyone) we ended up getting on like a house on fire and had been inseparable ever since. We had decided to get an apartment together about two years ago, because the two of us were trying to save money.

"How was work?" She asked, tipping the cheese into the sauce.

"It was fine. Joanne was a bundle of energy, as usual. How was your day?"

Caroline made a face, pouring the pasta into the sauce and mixing it. "Boring. When is it ever anything else?"

Caroline worked in the accounting department in Mystic Falls Bank, which she was great at, but hated. What she really wanted to be was an elementary school teacher, but she needed to save up enough money to go back to school first.

She proudly held up the rickety saucepan, that had belonged to her mother and had been gifted to us when we moved in together. (Gifted meaning stolen from the kitchen when Mrs. Forbes wasn't looking.) "Dinner," She said smugly. "Is served."

Tipping it into two chipped bowls, she handed me one. I poked the gelatinous pile with a fork before giving in and nibbling a piece gingerly. Surprisingly (and to my disappointment, because I couldn't bitch about corporations anymore) it wasn't too bad and so I hopped up onto the counter and began into it with a little more enthusiasm.

"Actually, this guy came into the bakery today, looking around. Said his name was Damon Salvatore – have you heard of him?"

Caroline frowned. "Damon Salvatore…I could be wrong but isn't he like an entrepreneur? Owns a few businesses here and there, kinda successful?"

"Maybe. Whatever he is, he told me to Google him, so he must have a pretty big ego."

Caroline snorted. "Google him? Jesus. Maybe he's a bigger deal than we thought."

My phone chirped from my back pocket and glancing at it, I saw that it was a text from Ricki.  
_Got that message, tnx Elle. Will xplain nxt time I c u. Ricki xx_

I frowned down at the phone. I had been hoping for a bit more than just an 'I'll explain next time I see you' in relation to what Damon had wanted but that had probably been expecting a bit too much - Ricki had never been too savvy on social media.

"Everything ok?" Caroline asked and I tossed my phone down, nodding.

"Just Ricki. Actually, speaking of Ricki, you won't believe the _hell _that Joanne is putting me through…"

OOO

"Ok, so…Damon Salvatore." I muttered to myself, opening up my computer. After dinner, I had changed into pyjamas and then settled down to do some research on this guy. I began to tap it into Google and to my surprise, his name appeared in the list of suggestions as soon as I typed in his first name. I clicked it and then sat back and stared at the results that popped up.

I was still gaping at them when Caroline appeared into my room from doing the dishes, holding two cups of tea.

"Did you find out who he is then?" She asked, sitting cross legged on the bed beside me and handing me a cup. I nodded speechlessly, gesturing to the screen and she leaned forward, squinting at it.

"Damon Salvatore," She read out loud. "Born in Mystic Falls, is a businessman, owner of the hugely successful brand name 'Volturi' which is used to sell products ranging from clothes to household goods. As he is the sole owner of the brand, Salvatore is believed to be worth in the realm of seven hundred million dollars" Her voice, which had started out loud and joking had trailed off to a tone of disbelief. She stared at me for a moment, mouth agape before reading the last part of the paragraph. "Salvatore is also known for his business method of 'buy and improve'. This involves purchasing an already successful business and through various methods, making it even more profitable."

The two of us sat in silence for a moment, before Caroline spoke again. "You don't think he wants to buy the bakery, do you?"

I shrugged, trying not to come across as concerned as I was. Truthfully, I had been wondering whether that's what he had wanted too, and the fact that Caroline was thinking it as well confirmed those fears.

"Well, whatever." She said, trying to sound confident. "Ricki wouldn't sell the bakery even if someone wanted to buy it, right?"

I sat up, feeling a little better. "No. No, you're right, she wouldn't. She loves the place and….and she knows what it means to me. She wouldn't do that to me."

"What does this guy look like, anyway?" Caroline asked, and I shrugged.

She clicked onto a website promising an interview and a gallery of photos. "Was he nice when he came into the bakery though?" She asked, waiting for it to load. "I mean, sometimes these people can be pretty…HOLY SHIT."

The pictures had loaded. Caroline gaped at them, practically drooling onto my keyboard. "Was he this good-looking when he came into the shop?"

I examined the pictures. He did look pretty great in them – in fact, he looked like a male model. Had he actually looked this handsome when I met him today? "I guess." I said grudgingly and she whooped.

"You have to bring him home! For dinner or something, I don't know! Bullshit an excuse and then find a way to invite him into your bedroom because he is stunning! AND RICH!"

I laughed, hitting her with a pillow. "Don't be an idiot, Caroline."

"No Elle, I'm totally serious. He's probably the best catch of our time."

"Despite the fact that he represents everything I hate in the world today?" I asked dryly. She carried on like I hadn't even spoken.

"And he's only…twenty eight! That's ideal – not too young, not too old. I mean shit Elle, he's like a God."

"Which is exactly why I'm sure that he has a girlfriend. And even if he didn't, it's not like he'd go for someone like me!"

Caroline turned to glare at me. "What's _that_ supposed to mean, Elena?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well come on. It's not like a multi-millionaire is going to go out with someone who looks like me. You, on the other hand, I'm sure he would love."

Caroline sat up, looking genuinely irritated. "I hate it when you talk about yourself like that." She muttered angrily, sliding off the bed. "You're so hard on yourself, Jesus."

"You know it's true!" I called after her as she huffed out of the door before returning to my scrolling.

I had always been…God I hated the phrase, but a 'bigger girl' for as long as I could remember, both in height and weight. Truthfully, my build was not that of a slim girl but my love of baking and hatred of exercise had probably contributed to the fact that I usually fitted into a US ten if it was a good day; a twelve if it was a bad. And I knew so many girls who were bigger than I was who were absolutely stunning – it just looked, I don't know, _awkward _on me. I was so tall as it was, and tall girls were meant to be willowy, and I just…took up space. I was the kind of chubby that looked goodish squeezed into Spanx, and I had hips and boobs that I regarded fondly but other than that, my body was not going to win beauty pageants. That being said, it wasn't like I _hated_ myself, or anything like it. Sometimes I looked in the mirror and thought I was the sexiest thing since sliced bread and other times I wondered how the rest of the human population stood me.

So no, I probably wasn't the most confident person in the world, but then who was? I knew how to dress for my body shape and anything after that, I didn't really give too much thought to. I had more important things to do with my time.

I scanned through the accompanying interview to the pictures. It gave a basic background of Salvatore – born in Mystic Falls? This was a bit of a surprise, although it was probably why I thought that I had heard of him. One younger brother, mother died when he was young, dropped out of college and started up a successful brand name. The typical success story, something he himself admitted later on in the interview.

Reading down through it, it was clear that Damon had charmed the pants off of this interviewer. He came across as funny, witty, charming and a touch dangerous and brooding. (The ideal combo.) It was a little surreal to think that I had just been talking to him earlier today.

As I read through various different articles, I couldn't calm the niggling worry in my stomach that Caroline and I were right about him wanting to buy the place. Why on earth else would he wander in off the street and want to talk to the owner?

I tried to comfort myself with what I had been thinking earlier, that Ricki wouldn't just _sell _the place like it meant nothing to her. The two of us had built up this little bakery to the point that it was at now – she wouldn't just throw it away.

Feeling a little bit better, I shut down the computer and crawled under my duvet sheets. The more I thought about it, the more I realised how _stupid _I was to worry. Everything was going to be _fine _– things were not going to fall to pieces because Damon Salvatore, just a random millionaire, had walked into the bakery. We didn't even know what he wanted, for heaven's sake! Maybe he and Ricki were just old friends or something, I don't know. Whatever it was, it would all be sorted out, I was sure of it.

I snuggled down into my pillow, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over me. My eyes began to close of their own accord and the last thing that I thought before I drifted off to sleep was to wonder when I'd next see Damon Salvatore again. (I couldn't figure out whether I was excited or dreading it.)

OOO

**Kind of an 'establishing stuff' chapter. Hope you enjoyed it though! Leave me a review and let me know what you think. (Again – please be gentle. Smiley faces are always appreciated.) **

**I can't promise an update soon, but I'll try, I promise. (I have managed to pick a dreadful time for me to upload, in terms of having no free time. SORRY!)**

**So yeah, leave reviews and if you like this story, give it a follow.**

**It's good to be back my darlings!**

**x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi darlings! Another update, much earlier than expected due to the loveliness that came as a response to the first chapter. **

**I got the sweetest message from one of you sweeties and it made me tear up, it really did. I really do hope that by making Elena a bigger size, I'll be making at least a few of you see how beautiful you are. **

**I really, really hope you like this chapter. It's really long but I simply couldn't just jam it into a three thousand worder.**

**Enjoy!**

**OOO**

"Hello, Cloud 9 bakery, how can I help you?" I chirped cheerfully into the earpiece. "You want to order thirty cupcakes for this afternoon? Any particular flavour or…ok, yep. Red velvet with Italian Meringue Buttercream. Perfect. Ok, so that's going to come to $45, so you can pay when you pick them up. Your order number is 102, so if you tell the cashier that when you arrive, she'll know that they're yours. Sound good? Ok, great. Thank you!"

Hanging up, I scribbled down the order and dropped it off into the kitchen. Thankfully, both our sales girl Lorie and our head baker Vanessa were back from being sick so the bakery was running smoothly again. (Plus Vanessa being back meant that I didn't have to handle Joanne by myself.)

Sitting back down in my office, I glanced longingly at the clock. I loved my job but today was dragging by – it had just gone twelve o' clock, when it felt like it should have been four. Plus, I was starving and although yes, I could easily have snaffled a cupcake or a pastry, I tried not to eat the cakes unless I was having a serious sugar craving – otherwise I would have been the size of a house.

The bakery had been pretty busy all day – the little bell above the door had barely stopped chiming all morning, music to my ears. So it was a surprise to look up at a light knock on the door and see Lorie standing there nervously.

"Lorie, why aren't you out there with the customers?" I asked in slight panic.

"I'll get back out there right now, just…someone came in saying that he had a meeting with Ricki in a few minutes, but I know Ricki's not here yet so I thought I'd just send him into you?"

I sighed, already knowing who was going to walk in. "Yeah, sure. Send him in."

She smiled in relief and stepped back to allow Damon Salvatore to step into my office. He smiled at her and she practically melted to the floor before doing what was effectively a half curtsy and scuttling away.

Damon turned to me with a grin and I smiled back, thinking it slightly strange that Ricki had agreed to meet him so quickly.

"I see you're back running the place from behind the scenes." He said, looking around.

I suddenly felt self-conscious of my little office, decorated with bright fake flowers and bookshelves full of bright pink folders.

"Well yeah, everyone's back so it's all go again." I felt disgustingly _shy_, something I hated.

He turned back around to me and I found it hard to get my head around how this man was possibly the richest person I would ever meet.

"Did you look me up?" He asked, smirking and I nodded, the feeling of reverence gone as I was reminded of his arrogance.

"I did. In case you're not aware, Mr. Salvatore, you're quite successful and rich."

He properly laughed then, a huge delighted sound that filled my office. "I suppose that that's one way of summing me up Elena, yes."

I ignored the slight thrill that went up my back that he remembered my name and continued on. "What I want to know is what you want with my bakery."

He shrugged. "I want to buy it."

Instantly my good mood vanished. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over me. "Why would you want to do that?" I asked faintly and he raised an eyebrow at me incredulously.

"Well you saw that my most famous business method is 'buy and improve', right? That's what I want to do with this place."

"Well." I said, searching around for something to do with my hands. I settled on fidgeting with a folder. "Well. I'm terribly sorry, but the bakery isn't for sale."

He looked amused. "Oh we'll see about that."

Before I could respond, a tall woman with red hair piled onto the top of her head appeared in the doorway. "Oh I am so sorry that I'm late!" She exclaimed loudly in a Southern accent, dumping a pile of folders onto my desk.

"Hi Ricki." I said tightly, and she kissed me on both cheeks before turning with a huge smile to Damon, who was looking bemused.

"Hello darling! Thank you so much for coming in to talk to me, we're delighted to welcome you." She beamed and Damon nodded graciously, shaking her outstretched hand.

"So do you want me to leave the two of you to talk?" I asked, trying not to sound as annoyed as I felt that this was taking place in _my _office. Ricki turned to me looking appalled.  
"Oh darling, don't be _ridiculous_! Of course you'll stay here. Everybody sit, please."

Ricki's personality was a lot to take in at first, but to honest, I was used to it by now.

We all sat, and Ricki turned to Damon. "So my darling, when you rang me yesterday, you mentioned that you wanted to buy Cloud 9."

"Which I told him was ridiculous, because it's not for sale." I said hotly and the two of them glanced at me, Damon in amusement and Ricki in disapproval.

"Well now Elena sweetheart, that's actually not true." She said slightly sternly and I stared at her.

"Excuse me?"

She sighed, throwing her hands up in a 'what can I do' motion. "It depends on what Mr. Salvatore is offering."

I stood up abruptly. "Ricki, could I talk to you for a moment?" I asked furiously. "_Alone_?"

She hesitated but then stood up. "We'll be just a moment." She said kindly to Damon, who lolled back in his chair and told us to take our time.

As soon as we had got outside her office, I yanked the door shut with a slam and spun around to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" I whisper-yelled. "You're just going to sell the place and you weren't going to _tell_ me?"

"Oh Elena, don't be so dramatic, it's just a meeting –"

"No, I _will_ be dramatic, Ricki." I snapped. "You know how much this place means to me, not to mention the staff that work here – are you just going to kick them out on the street, me with them? I'd have thought that you'd feel like you owed us the _respect_ of –"

"Now that's enough, Elena." She cut in, glaring at me. "You _know_ that you are like a daughter to me and I would never intentionally hurt you. But _I'm the owner_ of this place and I do have the right to do what I think is best for it, and _you,_ not to mention myself. Ok?"

I nodded, crossing my arms and trying not to look too much like a sulky teenager, even if it was exactly how I felt.

"I'm glad we're on the same page. Now pull on your big girl panties -" I ignored the irony in this phrase. "And go back inside." She patted my arm and then opened the door to the office again and nudging my back gently. I trudged back in, ignoring Damon as much as I could and slumped back onto my chair.

"Now, Mr. Salvatore, where were we?" Ricki asked brightly, no trace of her previous irritation in her voice.

"Well, like I said on the phone, Ms. Greene, I'm willing to offer a very generous sum." Damon said seriously. "Now I personally don't like to talk about money but I have written down the sum which I'd be willing to pay to buy this place."

He opened his stupid, fancy suit jacket and produced a piece of folded paper which he handed to Ricki. She opened it and read the figure inside before going pale and visibly gulping.

"Right." She said faintly. "Well that's…I mean it's more than reasonable."

She slid the piece of paper across the desk to me and I glanced at Damon suspiciously before opening it.

"Holy Christ." I stared down at the figure with a lot of zeros at the end of it incredulously. "That's…well that's just ridiculous."

Damon shrugged, reaching over and taking the piece of paper from me. "What can I say? I like to get what I want."

"I don't understand why you even _want_ this place." I muttered, still stunned.

"Who _wouldn't_ want it? With the cupcake craze just gone and the huge rise in baking in general, bakeries have never been as popular or profitable. This bakery is in a great location and I understand that you own the property, gifted to you by your father, Ms. Greene?"  
Ricki nodded and he continued. "Even better - no rent to pay. Plus Mystic Falls _is_ my hometown – there's a touch of sentimentality about it. I've wanted to break into the baked goods industry for a long time, and this is where I want to start."

"So what, you just buy out the place, sweep in and replace all of the staff and make it your own?" I snapped and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Easy tiger. Not necessarily. That was something else I wanted to ask Ms. Greene about, whether she had any staff she particularly valued that I should keep on. The rest, I will obviously help find employment elsewhere."

I glared at him. "So you've already got it figured that the place is going to be yours then, huh? Well isn't that just delightfully arrogant."

"Well I'm sorry Ms. Gilbert, but generally being as successful as I am makes a person confident." He shot back, and I scowled at him.

"Ok, that's enough with the bickering, you two." Ricki interrupted. "And listen, Mr. Salvatore, you've made a very generous offer but I couldn't possibly sell the bakery –"

I whooped but quietened down once she shot me a withering look. "Allow me to clarify. I couldn't possibly decide to sell the bakery without dedicating some thought to it."

Wait, what had she said? I stared at her, feeling dangerously close to tears.

Damon looked irritated. "While I understand that entirely Ms. Greene, I will have to agree a date with you to receive your decision, because there's only so much time I can spend waiting around."

"Yes, yes of course."

I gaped at her, willing her silently to realise how crazy she was being. But instead she just massaged her forehead, the various bangles on her wrist jingling. "I'll tell you what. I'll get back to you in two weeks from today with my decision. Deal?"

Damon looked less than pleased with this arrangement but clearly knew better than to argue. "Deal." He agreed, shaking her hand.

"And as for employees I think you should hire, there's only one."

Damon leaned forward, looking interested. "Really? And who's that?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. Who _was_ that? I mean yeah, our staff was great but they were fundamentally _replaceable_.

To my huge surprise, she pointed at me. "This lady right here."

Damon glanced at me with a smirk while Ricki continued. "You want your business to succeed, you get her on board. She has built this place up and I can guarantee you that the place will fail if you don't have her too."

"Well that's a lovely sentiment, Ricki, but I don't think that I'd feel _comfortable_ working for Mr. Salvatore." I protested through gritted teeth.

Ricki waved a hand dismissively. "She's a delight once you get to know her." She said to Damon. "Honestly, spend time with the girl, turn up the charm and you'll have a loyal employee for life."

"Ricki, I'm right here."

"Oh honey, you know it's true." She glanced between the two us, pursing her lips. "I think what the two of you need to do is spend time with each other."

This earned a delighted laugh from Damon and a snort from me. "No, I'm serious!" Ricki protested. She sat quietly for a moment before practically lighting up. "In fact, in order for me to consider both sides of the coin, I _insist _that you both spend at least an hour a day together. If I decide to sell the place, I do want you to continue working in whatever the bakery becomes, Elena. And if I decide to keep it, we'll be happy to act as consultants for any other bakery you open, Mr. Salvatore."

"That's very generous of you, Ms. Greene." Damon said, sounding slightly bewildered. I doubt that he had ever had someone order him around in his entire working life. "And I'm sure that Ms. Gilbert and I would get on like a house on fire."

I rolled my eyes at this.

She turned to me. "And?" She asked expectantly, raising an eyebrow.

I stared at her. "Ricki, you can't be serious about this." I said in disbelief and she narrowed her eyes.

"Elena, I am deathly serious. Now do you agree or will I just sell the place right now?"

Was this middle aged woman _threatening _me? Was she actually _serious?_ Much to my dismay, she did seem to be and so I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to stamp my foot. "Fine. An hour, no more." I muttered.

Ricki clapped her hands together. "Excellent. I'm delighted." She gestured for us to stand up and we both did, as though she was the teacher and we were little schoolchildren. "Elena, would you mind walking Mr. Salvatore to the door?"

"I'd be delighted." I said through gritted teeth.

"In fact, why not start up your time together now?" She continued. I was seriously wondering whether she had a grudge against me about something, the way she was carrying on.

"Well it's not actually my lunch break yet, Ricki." I said, trying not to sound too gleeful.

"Don't be silly, my darling. We'll let you take an early lunch break for once in your life!" She shook her head at Damon, smiling fondly like I was a puppy who kept misbehaving. "The girl does not know how to relax."

"Ricki!" I hissed, horrified. Damon grinned at me over Ricki's head.

"Well don't worry Ms. Greene," He drawled. "I'll make sure she has a _great _time."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my coat off the back of my chair. "Well you're buying lunch." I grumbled as I brushed past him out into the bakery and he snorted, following me out.

Just as we reached the door, he stopped. "Actually," He said apologetically with a face that looked anything but. "I forgot. I ordered a batch of cupcakes to take back to the office. Red velvet with Italian meringue buttercream?"

"That was _you_?" I snapped before reigning myself in. "Ahem. Do you have your order number?"

"102." He said smugly and I tried to think of a reason to _not _give them to him. Plus, how did he know what Italian meringue buttercream was?

"Well. I'll check, but I doubt that they're ready." I stomped – walked – past him to check in the kitchen, praying that they weren't just so that I could spite him, if even a little bit. "You really should have said that you wanted them quickly." I said over my shoulder, trying to find any little way to get a dig in.

"I'll try harder next time." He said sarcastically. "I know that cupcakes are truly a difficult and time consuming thing to make."

Oh that was _it._ I spun around, causing him to nearly crash into me.

"Do _not_ make fun of me." I snarled. "If we're going to spend time together, it'll already be like having teeth pulled without anaesthetic but I will _not_ tolerate you mocking me."

He held up his hands. "Easy tiger." He said in what I assumed he thought was a soothing voice. "I was just messing around."

I huffed but continued on to the kitchen, returning, slightly gleeful, to tell him that although the cupcakes had been baked, they hadn't been iced yet and the bakers were _extremely _busy and didn't possibly have the time to spare to go off track. Unfortunately for me, it was at this point that Ricki chose to appear.

"Well Elena darling, why don't_ you_ just ice them?"

Thoroughly trapped in a corner at this stage, I stamped – no pretence about it this time – back into the kitchen, grabbing an apron and looped it over my head. I scowled when I saw Damon leaning in the doorway, watching me, but continued on, scooping a few dollops of Italian buttercream (that we made fresh in the bakery every day – I always insisted on using our own products.) into a bowl and on my way back to the counter, picked up a disposable piping bag and after a moment, decided on a Wilton #1M tip, the classic. There was a small part of me that debated over messing up the cupcakes but even I couldn't sink to messing up my goods deliberately.

I made quick work of fitting the tip into the bag and filling it with the icing, before beginning to swirl it onto the cupcakes. This always calmed me down – I had been doing it since I was a little girl and it felt familiar and comforting. I got into a rhythm and finished the entire batch in about two minutes and then once I had squeezed the rest of the icing back into the original bowl, decided on bright multi-coloured circular sprinkles. I scattered them over the batch, stepped back to make sure everything was perfect and after a few tweaks, – a sprinkle here or there – they were.

"Joanne!" I called towards the general direction of running feet. "Where do we keep the boxes?"

"Cupboard to your left!" was the response I got, and to my surprise, it was actually right. I managed to find one that actually fit thirty and plopped them in, one by one before sealing it with a Cloud 9 sticker and then finishing it off with a pearly white ribbon.

I looked up to find Damon staring at me in the intense way that he had done the day before. A lazy smile spread across his face as his gaze flicked from me to the box. "Well well well, Ms. Gilbert." He murmured. "Consider me impressed."

I blushed stupidly and picked up the box, practically shoving it at him. "It's nothing." I muttered. "Let's just go and get this over with."

Was it possible to both hate someone and want to impress them?

"Oh, and that'll cost $45." I said as we walked past the till.

"Of course. Take these for a moment?" He handed me the box and I cradled it gently as he produced a wad of dollars from a very full wallet.

Joanne rang the order up with a dreamy smile on her face. "Thanks darling." He said as he handed her the money and she practically swooned. As she handed her the change, I could have sworn that he…oh my God, he actually winked at her and she giggled like a twelve year old school girl as he slotted the money back into his wallet, looking like a cat that had got the cream.

"I'm pretty sure that that's sexual harassment." I muttered, handing him the box and pulling on my coat. (A bright yellow trench coat with a floral lining – one of the few pieces of clothing that I positively adored.)

"I think it's only sexual harassment if one of the parties _doesn't_ want to be a part of it." He said as he held open the door for me, – damn gentleman – sounding altogether too pleased with himself. "So what's the plan? Any preferences for lunch?"

"I don't mind. I'm sure you're the expert." I said snarkily and he laughed.

"Well it's easy to see that you're going to be a bundle of joy to be around. Tell you what, we'll drop these into the office and then we can figure out where we're going."

"You want us to take the same car?" I asked, faintly surprised and he looked at me like I was crazy.

"Obviously. No point in wasting petrol, is there?"

"No, I know, I just…yeah, whatever. You want to take your car, I presume?"

He smiled boyishly. "You're getting to know me so well, Ms. Gilbert. I parked it over here, come on."

To my immense surprise, (not) he drove a Jaguar, all shiny black and brown leather seats. He held the door open for me to get into the car and I sat in as gracefully as I could, (that being not very, in my case) hoping that he didn't notice that the car sank just a tiny bit when I sat in it. I had a feeling that Damon Salvatore hung around mainly with size two supermodels in his spare time.

He got in beside me, handed me the box of cupcakes and then the car purred to life and we were on our way.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, although he seemed comfortable with the quiet. I, on the other hand, was one of those people who needed to constantly fill the silence and so found it pretty weird. Anytime I tried to think of something to say, it seemed stupid and I really wasn't in the mood for him laughing at me again.

"So, Ms. Gilbert," He said finally, rounding a corner smoothly. "Tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" I said after a moment, staring resolutely out the window.

"I don't know, whatever you see fit. Tell me how you got into baking."

I blinked at him. I had never had anyone ask me that before, mainly because everyone just accepted it as a fact that I had been doing it forever.

"I...don't actually know." I said honestly and he shot me a confused glance.

"How can you not know?"

"I mean, I started when I was about eleven but I don't remember what made me pick up a book and start."

"Did your mom bake?" He pressed and I shook my head.

"No, it was only me. I just remember figuring out that I could make gingerbread biscuits well and after that, I used to make nearly a batch a day. None of us even _liked_ gingerbread biscuits but my parents saw that it made me happy so they didn't complain."

He laughed, his eyes crinkling up and I continued, feeling slightly encouraged.

"And I guess I just kept practicing, because I got better and better and then I became the resident baker in my house. I made the desserts if my parents ever had dinner parties, I made people's birthday cakes, I baked cookies for all of my friends. It was one of the only things that I was passionate about, really."

"Did you always want to work in a bakery?" He asked, sounding interested enough and I shrugged.

"I started to want to once I realised that I was good enough. Well no, that's not true – I've always wanted to _own _my own bakery. But realistically, I don't have the money right now and I love Cloud 9, so I'm content for the time being. It's great to be able to get such good experience."

"Is that why you don't want me to buy the place?"

I felt anger bubble back up inside of me again. "I guess." I muttered, turning back out to the window and he groaned.

"Don't turn off on me now, we were just getting started! I'm serious, I want you to tell me why you don't want me to buy the place, because it seems like more than just disappointment that Ricki won't own it anymore."

I hesitated.

"Come on, I won't bite." He coaxed and then the dam burst.

"Bakeries aren't meant to be owned by huge corporations!" I exclaimed. "They're….they're meant to be owned by people who are actually passionate about them, who've dreamed of opening them their entire lives! Not just by a group of faceless people who want to make money, which, to me Damon Salvatore, is what you are. Anyone can churn out some boxed cake mix, Jesus – that doesn't take any skill, or any love for the cake itself!"

Damon held up a hand. "May I just interject –"

"No!" I snapped. "On top of that, I think corporations are downright evil and as someone who is a member of a small business, I know that having someone just opening up shops left right and centre is extremely damaging to business. People are _people_, something you all seem to forget sometimes."

There was silence for a moment and I wondered whether I had hurt his feelings. And then…a _chuckle?_

"Well please; tell me what you really think." He said sarcastically and I turned around to snap at him about the mocking thing before realising that we had pulled up outside a sleek office building.

"I'm going to drop _these_ –" He plucked the box of cupcakes off of my lap. "Into reception for Dianne to hand them around and then you and I are going to go for lunch and we will debunk any ideas that you may have about my company. Ok?"

"You can try." I said coldly and he rolled his eyes before getting out and nudging the door shut behind him.

In the silence that followed, I drummed my fingers on the door handle, wondering what on earth I was doing. I knew that I was acting like a petulant child but at the same time, I didn't want to be a pushover and take this guy taking my bakery away from me lying down. I mean, I hated him.

Didn't I?

I was shaken out of my thoughts when he opened the car door and sat back in.

"Well I assure you that those will be very much appreciated. Now, lunch. I know a little café just a few minutes from here. Serves all sorts of sandwiches, soups, that kind of thing, everything's delicious. Sound good?"

"What's it called?" I asked, curious in spite of myself and he answered as he started up the car.

"It's called the Lemon. Just off Elm Street."

"That's actually one of my favourite cafés." I said, surprised that someone like him would _go_ to somewhere like the Lemon. "I'm usually the one recommending it to the people though. How do you know it?"

"I know the owner, he's a childhood friend."

"You know Zach?" I asked, even more surprised. Zach and I had got to know each other over my few years going to the café. He was possibly the most flamboyant man I had ever met in my life – I had never seen the man not wearing some piece of sparkly clothing (and matching eyeliner) along with his hair combed into elaborate different styles. Anytime I asked him about his life, he ended up talking for _at least _half an hour about whatever problems he was having with his older boyfriend, Martin, who was basically a stereotypical rugged, silent man. I couldn't imagine Damon hanging out with him.

When we arrived into the café, I inhaled the warm smell of tea and toast and various cakes. The place was adorable, with distressed wood tables and bright, cheery pictures on the walls. Damon led us to a table for two near the window – I didn't mention that it was the table that I always chose to sit at too.

The waitress came and took our orders – for him, a roast vegetable wrap and for me a ham and cheese Panini. A part of me felt slightly uncomfortable as I ordered mine – was he secretly sitting back and thinking 'this girl should _really_ order a salad.'? But then I reminded myself that I didn't care about Damon Salvatore's opinion – and on top of that, he was glancing at his phone, so I didn't think he had even heard what I had ordered.

The waitress left us two glasses of water and left, – although not without several coy glances at Damon – promising that the sandwiches would be just a few minutes.

"So, while we wait, I want to talk to you about some of these notions you have about 'corporations'. Mainly tell you how wrong they are." He said, and I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of water.

"Please, enlighten me." I said dryly.

"Well I can't talk to you about other companies but I can tell you about the ethics of mine. Every single product produced is made with the guarantee that it's Fair Trade and that the workers receive full rights, whether it's made over here in America or somewhere else in the world. We pay our lowest level workers four dollars more per hour than whatever the minimum wage is in that state and require every full time employee to take at least two weeks paid holiday per year – and they're allowed seven separate sick days."

He paused to take a sip of water while I stared at him, feeling slightly overwhelmed at this long list of niceties.

"As for setting up shops in small towns," He continued. "I do agree with you that it often hurts small businesses which is why before setting up a shop in a town, we try to negotiate with the shops around to carry our products, allowing them to make a profit, as do we. If that doesn't work out, we evaluate whether we really need to put the shop into that town – whether it'd really be worth the trouble. If we do, we set it up far enough away from the small businesses so that their daily footfall won't be affected."

"You…you can't be serious." I said in disbelief. "Surely you don't do that for _every single shop_."

He shrugged. "What can I say? My father was a shop owner, so protecting them has a place in my heart I guess. As for the buy and improve method, that's more of my own personal hobby."

"A hobby that makes you millions of dollars a year." I muttered into my glass and he laughed.

"It's a good hobby to have." He admitted with a grin, as the waitress arrived with two plates. She set down my Panini in front of me and I nearly groaned out loud at how good it smelled.

"You two enjoy now." She said, focusing entirely on Damon as she handed him the plate, leaning forward to ensure that he got a good view of her cleavage as she batted her eyelids. "And call me if you need _anything_." Good grief. This woman was setting the feminist movement back by about fifty years.

Damon smiled at her indulgently but didn't appear too interested in flirting back, shooting me the odd amused smile when she was fussing around. Finally, she gave up and left us in peace.

"Does that happen often?" I asked in a hushed tone, picking up one half of the sandwich. "Do women just _constantly_ hit on you?"

"It's a constant hardship." He said seriously and I laughed.

The next few minutes were silent aside from chewing as we both ate our sandwiches, unable to do anything to make 'mmm-hmm' noises at the sheer deliciousness of them.

When the last crumb had been licked from the plate and we were both slumped back in our chairs, full to the brim, he grinned at me lazily. "I love," He said seriously. "A woman who eats."

A blush spread across my cheeks and I quickly glanced down. Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded sleazy but Damon Salvatore managed to somehow pull it off without sounding like a creep. Still, was he making fun of me? "Don't be stupid." I muttered, slightly flustered. "What time is it anyway? I'm sure I should be back at work any minute soon."

He glanced at his watch. "It's only half one darling, you've plenty of time. I do want to talk about what our arrangements for the next two weeks will be though."

"What? Oh, right. Well I'm sure Ricki won't actually expect us to meet _every_ day."

"No, but I don't want to take the chance. Plus, Ms. Gilbert," He said, leaning forward across the table and looking at me intensely. "I want to get to know you."

"Why would you want to do that?" I asked sceptically. "I'm sarcastic and mean. I'm not the nicest person to have around."

He laughed. "Sarcastic and mean is exactly my kind of person. Plus, I believe Ricki – I think that you have a huge passion for this and if I end up getting the shop, I'd hope that you'd help me run it."

I winced at the 'if I end up getting the shop'. "Listen." I said, pressing my fingertips together. "I have a proposition."

"I'm intrigued."

"If we're going to spend two weeks – fourteen hours, if you will – together, I'm going to propose that we don't talk about the possibility of you getting the bakery or me keeping the bakery at all. Otherwise we're just going to end up bickering."

He considered this. "That's actually…very clever." He said slowly, ignoring my smug look. "So no mention of the selling of the bakery at all?"

"None." I said seriously, offering him a hand. "Deal?"

He shook my hand and I was proud of my palms for not being sweaty. (Was that weird?)

"I have a feeling that it's going to be the start of a beautiful, albeit temporary friendship, Ms. Gilbert."

OOO

After he had paid the bill – much to my protest, although he ended up winning the argument by reminding me that he was a multi-millionaire and twenty dollars wasn't going to set him back too much – he offered to drive me back to the bakery. In the car on the way home, conversation flowed a little more easily than before.

"Actually, these two weeks are going to be pretty hectic for me." He said as we came to the lights just before the turn for the bakery. "I have a few different events going on, plus my brother's coming into town. But don't worry –" He grinned at me. "I'll make sure to slot you in."

I smiled shyly back. Now that my fury had worn off, having heard how…truthfully, _great_ his company seemed to be, I was becoming more and more aware of the fact that I was sitting next to…well, Damon Salvatore.

"Well here we are. First hour finished." He said cheerfully as we pulled up outside Cloud 9. "Should we exchange numbers and I'll give you a call tonight about what the hour will consist of tomorrow?"

I laughed, pulling my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him so that he could put in his number, and he did the same for me. (Although more closely making sure that I didn't tap into any other files or messages.)

"I dread to think what number girl I am in here." I said wryly.

"There's a lot." He admitted before handing my phone back to me with a cheesy grin. "Although none as beautiful as you, Ms. Gilbert."

"I'm sure that I drive you crazy with lust, Salvatore." I laughed as I handed him back his phone. "But the flirting will have to calm down if you want this friendship to work." The idea that Damon would actually _want_ me was crazy but the word lust conjured an image of he and I…kissing? It was only there for a moment and I banished it to the back of my mind quickly. Where had it even come from?

I blinked and found him looking at me with slight concern. "You ok, Gilbert?"

"Yes!" I said, possibly a touch too brightly. "I just zoned out, sorry. I had better...I'll get back to the bakery. Talk to you later?" The words made it sound like I thought that we were some high school couple and I cursed myself.

But he didn't seem to notice too much and instead saluted me with a single finger. "You got it darling."

I hopped out of the car and ran-jogged to the front door of the bakery and then turned to give him a little wave. He waved back, albeit with an amused eye roll and then drove away, leaving me with a tiny smile and the thought that maybe Damon Salvatore wasn't as bad as I had thought.

**Leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here we go again! The lovely reaction to the last chapter still makes me smile. Obviously they can't all be as long as that one, but I hope you enjoy this one none the less. It's very much an interact-y chapter between our two faves, so enjoy!**

"Hey Caroline," I said, answering the phone on my hands free as I turned a corner. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your _date_." Her voice sang, filling my car and I rolled my eyes.

"Caroline," I said through gritted teeth. "It's _not_ a date, for the last time."

"Ok, ok, sure. But I'm just saying – picnic for two, in a little park? It's not the kind of place where you bring a co-worker."

"I'm hanging up now Caroline."

"I want some of the horny details when you get –"

Her voice was cut off as I ended the call. Truthfully, when Damon had rang last night (it was very strange to see his name popping up on my phone, but I won't lie and say that it wasn't a bit of a thrill) and suggested that we have a picnic in Mystic Falls Park after work, I had been a little surprised. I had expected that he would insist that we spend our hour each day in various cafés and restaurants – a picnic seemed a little…_intimate?_ But then again, I knew it was probably his way of keeping things interesting so I had told him I'd go straight after work and then of course, I had to explain to Caroline that I wouldn't be home for dinner and then _that_ forced me to tell her about the whole situation and now she was convinced that by the end of the second week that we would be at least sleeping together, if not totally married.

The thought made me blush and I pushed it aside quickly. This would be awkward enough without me wondering what Damon Salvatore would be good in bed. (Although realistically, I imagined that he'd be in bed, what he was in every other area of his life – successful and brilliant.)

As I pulled up to the gates of the park, I realised with dismay that they were locked. I parked on the street opposite and then crossed back over. I looked around for a way in until seeing that the sign warned that the park shut at half six, half an hour ago. For a few dreadful moments, I wondered whether Damon was pulling some sort of trick, trying to humiliate me. Then I noticed someone emerging from the trees inside the park, grinning.

"Damon?" Was this part of the prank? "How did you get in? The place is locked!"

He held up a keyring filled with at least thirty keys, jangling them smugly. "I may or may not have bribed the groundskeeper." He said cheerfully and I stared at him as he came over to the gate and slotted one of the keys into the lock. A few turns and then the gate creaked open and he grinned at me triumphantly.

"Please, come in." He said, standing back and waving an arm grandly.

"I don't even understand how you_ manage_ to bribe a groundskeeper." I laughed in disbelief, stepping into the park and watching as he locked the gate again.

"I have my ways. Although if he happens to come round, pretend that I've just proposed to you, ok?"

"You told him that you were _proposing?_" I snorted and he shrugged.

"It was the only way that he'd let me set up after hours. Groundskeepers are always hopeless romantics. Come on, I'll show you the way."

He led me down a path lined with trees, most of them cherry blossom and in bloom. I had to brush petals out of my hair several times and dodge several branches so that they didn't hit me in the face but I didn't really mind.

"You look lovely by the way!" Damon called over his shoulder. I blushed, glancing down at the red skater dress I had on, paired with tights and a white jacket. I _may _have spent a tiny extra amount of time on my outfit today, knowing that I'd be going out after work. I mean not that I looked great or anything, but it was one of my favourite dresses.

"Thank you." I called back, then hesitantly: "You don't look so bad yourself."

He glanced back over his shoulder and smirked in a 'when do I not?' kind of way that made me smile. In truth, wearing a black suit and white shirt, he looked very handsome, ludicrously so.

He stopped suddenly and I nearly crashed into his back. I was about to grumble about how he should look where he was going when I looked up and the breath left my body.

In front of us stood one of the few gazebos scattered around the park, one of the ones in a more secluded spot. Draped throughout the trees and around the fence of the gazebo were fairy lights, twinkling cheerfully in the dusk of the evening and giving off a gorgeous glow. In the centre of the gazebo, there was a little table and two chairs, with a tall bouquet of flowers on the table. I could faintly hear the sound of the stream that ran through the park nearby and the smell of the huge lavender bushes beside us tickled my nose.

I turned around to stare at him and he smirked back at me, although there was a trace of worry in his eyes. "Impressed?"

"I'm a little speechless." I said honestly. "I also think that it was completely unnecessarily over the top and a café would have been fine."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I felt awful – was he going to take offence at that?

"It's not that I don't like it, it's beautiful!" I said hurriedly. "I just don't know why you went to all of this trouble."

He shrugged, stepping off the path over the little fence and offering me his hand. I took it lightly, trying not to think about it too much – and whether or not my hands were clammy, which they definitely _were_ – and stepped over the fence, grateful that I was wearing flats.

"Well, I had to try to make it look as much like a proposal as possible." He explained. "Keep that grounds keeper off our trail. Plus, I don't like restaurants. They're too loud, and filled with couples who are bored with each other."

"Well this is beautiful." I said, approaching the gazebo and gazing at it all. "You should do this for your girlfriend sometime, I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"Oh, I don't have a girlfriend, Ms. Gilbert." He said, sounding amused and I turned to stare at him.

"Are you kidding?" I asked incredulously and he raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I be kidding?"

"I mean, shit, do you actually want a list?" I laughed, stepping up onto the gazebo and shaking my head at him. "First of all, look at you. And no, do not take that as me wanting to jump your bones, take it as me having eyes. Two – look at all of this!" I waved my arms around. "We have known each other for a grand total of three days, and you have lied to a groundskeeper, effectively smuggled me into a park and decorated an entire gazebo just so that we can spend an hour together. I don't even know what you'd do if you were actually dating someone."

He laughed, stepping up beside me and pulling out on of the chairs for me to sit down on.

"I've only really been in one serious relationship in my life, and truthfully, I don't think any amount of grand gestures would have saved it." He said with a half-smile as he sat down opposite me and I leaned forward, curiosity piqued.

"A serious relationship?" I questioned, racking my brains for a name that may have popped up alongside his when I had looked him up. "Like, serious, serious? With who?"

"Katherine Pierce. You've probably heard of her?"

I think everyone in the world had heard of her. Katherine Pierce was a socialite, known for her caustic tongue and stunning looks. She constantly had a bored expression on her face which peered out from newspaper stands on glossy magazines and the various interviews inside would be filled with tales of her wild partying and multiple lovers and just her general wealth.

I could not think of two people who were more different.

"_You _dated Katherine Pierce?" I asked in disbelief and he nodded.

"For nearly two years. We met at a party and I guess she liked the look of me so she asked me on a date."

"And you _went_?" I snorted. "Jesus. She seems like a bit of a handful."

He laughed as he plucked a bottle of something from the ice cooler beside the table.

"It's just fizzy apple and pear. I figured you'd be driving, so you wouldn't want any alcohol." He explained upon seeing my confused look, and when I took a sip of what he poured into my glass, I had to force myself to put it back on the table so I didn't down it in one go. It tasted like I had imagined champagne would as a child – light and fruity and crisp.

"So listen, for dinner, I wasn't sure what to bring so, in keeping with the spirit of picnics –"

"I think you left the picnic spirit a _long_ time ago." I interrupted, looking around and he carried on, ignoring me.

"I brought you a sandwich. Well, a Panini. You had one yesterday so I knew that you like them."

He produced two wrapped sandwiches and after examining the labels, handed me one. I could feel that it was still warm through the paper and a weird rush of happiness rushed through me.

"Damon, you really didn't need to go to all of this trouble." I said quietly and he looked up from noisily unwrapping his sandwich in surprise.

"It's no trouble darling, really. Plus, you're the kind of person I want to impress."

I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face. "Why would you want to impress me?"

"Because if the bakery ends up being sold to me, I want you to keep working there." When the smile dropped from my face, he held his hands up. "I know we're not talking about it, and that's fine but I watched you in the bakery the other day you know. I've only ever seen a few people get so _involved _in something before and they're always the people who are the heart and soul of a business, and the reason it succeeds."

"Damon, I just don't know that I could –"

"I know. Just think about it. I think we could do amazing things together, Ms. Gilbert, I really do."

There was silence for a few moments as we unwrapped our food, me avoiding eye contact and then he laughed.

"I didn't mean to make you upset."

I looked up quickly, feeling mortified. "Oh no, it's fine, honestly –"

He held up a hand. "No, I get it. It's hard for you to think about, and I won't bring it up again. We'll chat about something equally as interesting."

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" I said, the thought suddenly occurring to me. "I've been nattering on about myself since we've met. I want to hear about your life. Or at least hear it in your words, since I know what's happened thanks to Google."

He laughed loudly before thinking about it for a moment. "Well, I suppose it's always best to start at the beginning. Twenty eight years ago, possibly the most amazing man in the universe was born…"

OOO

"You didn't!" I squealed, my stomach hurting from laughing. "You did _not_ tell Bill Gates to take his offer and shove it up his ass. I refuse to believe it."

"I have a pretty hurt letter from him about it, if you want proof." He said smugly, pouring me another glass of the fizzy stuff.

Over the course of – well, however long it took to finish our dinner, plus dessert (a banoffee pie from one of the other bakeries in town. I had been assured that the fact that we didn't stock banoffee had been checked numerous times.) _and _another two bottles of the apple and pear drink, Damon had told me his life story which ranged from deeply sad (I had nearly teared up when he told me about his mother dying) to hilarious, such as the moment above. The more he talked, the more I wanted to hear – he was so charismatic, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

"And thus, we arrive at the conclusion to present day, where I continue in my quest to continue on to greatness."

"I'm glad," I told him seriously, taking a sip of the drink. "That I asked you."

He was about to make a comment back when he cocked his head to one side. "Is that your phone?"

I realised with a start that my phone _was _ringing. "Shit, sorry. Do you mind?" He waved a hand in an 'of course not' kind of way and I scrambled through my bag for a few moments before finding it, swiping _answer_ without even checking who it was.

"Hello?" I said, a little breathless.

"Um, hi, Elena? It's Caroline." She sounded a little worried and instantly I panicked.

"Oh holy shit, what's wrong? Are you ok?" A thousand different scenarios ran through my head, each of them worse than the last.

"No, no, I'm fine! I was just ringing to see where _you _are."

I frowned into the phone. "What? I'm with Damon Salvatore, I told you I was meeting him in the park for dinner."

Her voice rose slightly and she sounded…_giddy?_ "You're still with him?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked, a little confused.

"Elena. It's nearly twelve o' clock."

"Wait, what?" It couldn't be. We had met up at seven – surely we hadn't been talking that long? Looking around, I realised that it had actually got completely dark – the only reason that I could see anything was the fairy lights.

"And where are you? I checked the closing time for the park and it shut like half an hour before you guys were meant to meet." She continued.

"Oh, right. Damon…actually talked the groundskeeper into keeping it open for us."

I heard a laugh from opposite me and I looked up to see Damon grinning and in spite of myself, I grinned back.

"Oh _my God._ He didn't. He kept a park open for you? ELENA, WAKE UP. GET INTO HIS PANTS."

"Caroline, I have to go." I snapped, terrified that he'd be able to hear her through the phone. Judging by the slight twitch of his lips, I was forced to admit to myself that he probably had. "I'll be home soon; you go on to bed, ok?"

"I had better not be the only one _going to bed, _if you know what I mean –"

"Goodbye Caroline." I hissed, hanging up and throwing the phone back into my bag like it was on fire, for fear that she'd start giving me tips on how to seduce him.

"Your roommate?" He asked after a pause and I nodded apologetically.

"Yeah, sorry. Caroline's a bit…over the top sometimes. I mean I love her, but she doesn't really understand the concept of boundaries."

"Have you two been friends for long?"

I scrunched up my nose, trying to remember. "I think it's been…ten years now?"

He whistled. "That's a long time."

I shrugged. "I guess. It doesn't feel like that long though. I think…we just click, y'know? I think that there's a certain amount of people in the world that you just work with, like you get on like a house on fire from the get go. I don't believe in love at first sight but I believe in the click."

"I think I'm starting to as well." He said softly, raising his blue eyes to mine and I felt a little transfixed as we both stared at each other. We stayed like that for a few seconds before he blinked and looked away, leaving me blushing furiously.

"I should let you get home." He said, standing up abruptly.

"It's…it's late." I agreed, gathering up my bag. "But um, thank you for such a lovely evening. I had a really, really great time."

He smiled at me, a sort of…_tenderness_ in his eyes. "I did too. Come on, I'll walk you to your car. Are you ok to drive home?"

"Oh yeah, I'll be fine. I've done a few late nights at the bakery before; I'm used to driving at night."

"Well text me when you get home safely, ok?"

We began the walk back through the trees, and I was acutely aware of his hand on the small of my back every second of the way.

When we reached the gate, he unlocked it and then the two of us stood there, looking at each other.

"Thank you again." I said after a moment. "I had such a nice time."

He smiled. "It was my pleasure Ms. Gilbert. I'll ring you tomorrow and we can figure out where we'll spend our hour then?"

"Sounds like a plan." I said shyly, inwardly wondering whether or not I should shake his hand. He solved this dilemma for me by leaning forward and kissing my cheek, his skin cool against my flushed face.

"Safe home." He said quietly before stepping back and allowing me to cross the street to my car, slightly in a daze. The last thing I saw before I unlocked it was him looking at me intently, before disappearing back into the trees of the park.

As I drove home, only one thought kept cropping up in my mind – _what on earth have you gotten yourself into?_

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